Part 6 (1/2)

It was late in the afternoon, so we went into camp and had supper, which consisted of dried venison and water, but for breakfast we had a change of diet, which was dried elk and water.

We learned that Col. Fremont had been detailed the summer before by the government to command an exploring expedition across the continent, and, if possible, find a better route from the ”States”

to California.

It leaked out that some of the trappers who did not like to have him in the neighborhood of Bent's Fort, for their own selfish motives, had misinformed him that first summer out, as to the lay of the country, hoping thereby to mislead him and his company into the mountains, where they would get snowed in and die of starvation.

Fremont and his party, consisting of twenty-eight men, had started up the Black Canyon, and they did get snowed in and had to stop for the winter.

They ran out of provisions and killed and ate some of their horses, but the other horses died of starvation and six of the men died of scurvy.

It being late when the Fremont party got into the mountains, and the snow-fall being very deep, the game went early to the lowlands and the men were forced to live on salt bacon and horse-flesh.

Even that became scarce and the entire company came near peris.h.i.+ng before spring.

In the camp with Col. Fremont that evening Uncle Kit and he made their bargain. Carson was to furnish all the horses and was to have the right to take as many extra men and horses as he liked, also the right to trade for furs and send his men and their horses back whenever he desired to do so.

After eating heartily of the dried venison and hearing Col.

Fremont's story of the dreadful experiences of his party in the Black Canyon, it was bedtime, and each man rolled himself in his blankets and soon all were sleeping, as tired men can, out on the plains.

We had an early breakfast, each man's hunk of dried meat being handy, so there was really no preparation to be made, except to wash. No compulsion, however, as to that. But having distinguished company, all hands washed this morning before squatting for breakfast.

While we were eating, Fremont asked whose boy I was. Uncle Kit replied that I was his boy, and ”a first-cla.s.s hunter and trapper, and he shoots Injuns purty well, too.” He then related the incident of my killing the two Utes.

All arrangements having been made, Uncle Kit agreeing to meet Col.

Fremont at Bent's Fort in three weeks, they separated and we pushed on for Taos. On arriving there Uncle Kit hired two Mexicans to go back with Mr. Hughes to our beaver camp and get the furs, and he gave instructions to take the furs to Santa Fe and dispose of them. Uncle Kit then employed Juan and a Texan boy named John West to a.s.sist us in fitting up for our California trip. So at the end of three weeks we met Fremont at Bent's Fort as per agreement.

Fremont's company consisted of twenty-two men, and they were, beyond doubt, the worst looking set of men I ever saw. Many of them were scarcely able to walk from the effects of scurvy and they were generally knocked out.

We had taken with us from Taos a pack-train loaded with vegetables, such as potatoes, onions and the like, and after Freemont's men had a.s.sociated with those vegetables for a few days, they came out fresh and smiling and were able to travel.

It was about the Middle of May, 1848, that we left Bent's Fort to hunt a new route to the golden sh.o.r.es of California.

The first night out we camped at Fountain Qui Bouille--p.r.o.nounced Koh-boo-yah--and here a little incident occurred that created much fun for all the party except one--that was me.

As soon as we went into camp, Carson told Johnnie West and me to let Juan take our horses and for us to go out and kill some meat.

We started out in opposite directions, and I had not gone more than a quarter of a mile when I saw a small deer, which I shot, threw on my shoulder and pulled for camp. Only a few rods on the way I came to a little mound of rock about three feet high, and from it flowed a spring of the nicest looking, sparkling water I thought I had ever seen. Being very thirsty, I made a cup of my hat by pinching the rim together, dipped up some of the water and gulped it down, not waiting to see whether it was hot or cold, wet or dry. But a sudden change came over me. I felt a forthwith swelling under the waistband of my buckskin breeches, and I seemed to have an internal and infernal hurricane of gas, which in a second more came rus.h.i.+ng through my mouth and nostrils like an eruption from Cotopaxi or Popocatapel. To say that I was frightened would be putting it mild. I rushed down the hill like mad, and fairly flew to camp and up to Uncle Kit, exclaiming as best I could, ”I'm poisoned!”

”Pizened?” said Uncle Kit.

”Yes, poisoned;” and just then another rush of gas came through my nostrils.

When the men saw me running so fast they grabbed their guns, thinking the Indians were after me, and quickly surrounded me to hear what was the matter.

Uncle Kit asked me how I got poisoned, and I told him of the spring water I had drank, and asked him if he could do anything to save my life. Then there was another eruption.

Uncle Kit laughed harder than I had ever seen him, but he told me, as fast as he could, that I had drank from a soda spring and that it would not hurt me. Everybody laughed and then all went to the spring to get some of the ”poisoned water,” which was very good when taken in reasonable quant.i.ties and in a reasonable way.

My gun, deer and hat were all lying near the spring, and I secured them, but it was many a day before I heard the last of the ”pizen- spring.”